30th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Alopexin stood on the edge of a cliff, the wind sang through her bones and the clear air coursed through her lungs. She could feel the weight of the bow at her back, glowing in the pale Northern sun. Her feet hugged the edge of the cliff in thin leather boots that allowed her to feel the small curves and crevices. She surveyed the area carefully. Her objective was plain, clear the bandits out of the cave. She could feel the rising adrenaline in her blood already. She felt like a well-oiled Dwemer machine, dormant for so long finally called into life with only one objective – to harm.

She heard voices from the mouth of the cave and fell back, clinging to the rockface with her entire body. She pulled the bow from her back and grasped two arrows. She pulled the string of the bow taut, and slipped the arrow into place with battleborn ease. The arrows cut through the air in succession, each meeting the intended target. Like quicksilver, before the second bandit could even react to his fallen comrade he felt the piercing blow of a poison-tipped arrow and crumpled to the ground.

Alopexin scanned the cave mouth for any remaining bandits, carefully shuffling down from the precipice. Her hands scraped along the rough stone, crisscrossing her skin with tiny scratches, and the wound in her hand ached beneath the heavily balmed bandage. She dropped to the ground, feeling the slap of her feet on the cold, hard ground, and the judder of pressure in her calves. She crouched and crept towards the cave, feeling the steel of the wilderness entering her once again.

She slipped through the black bowels of the cave, splashing the walls blood red. Her sword whispered through the air, through skin, muscle, bone. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and with every kill she felt euphoria rising. The quiet black air tasted of steel, salt and midnight. With each muted step, each soft twinkle of her hair beads she felt her stomach tense. She could feel muddy sweat glistening on her face, and taste soot on her lips from the softly burning torches. Animal anger bristled down her spine, filling each vertebrae with white hot aggression, but with each kill she felt cleansed. The dirty, dark feelings that crawled and writhed inside of her grew white and pure. She was a killer. This was her job. It was no longer a polluted secret, but a paid pastime. In their deaths, she would survive.

She moved towards the heart of the cave, hearing more voices. Melding herself into the chalky cave walls, she watched and counted. One, two, three bandits. She sheathed her sword quietly, and once more pulled out her bow. It felt firm and warm in her grasp as she wrapped her fingers around the body. She angled the shimmering glass arrow, aiming for the face of the closest bandit. She studied his face, heavy-set and red-nosed with drunken-lolling eyes. He was barely awake. She pulled back the arrow feeling the heft of her bow, her eyes never leaving the drooping bandit face, before releasing her grip.

The arrow struck the bandit square in the eye socket, so cleanly severing through his brain that he had no time to react, only sliding head first into the plate of thick venison before him, his blood mingling with that of the deer meat.

"Mord can't handle his ale. What a man…" The second bandit slurred, as she sprawled onto the lap of the third. "But I can hold my drink chief. Care to find out?"

Alopexin thanked the gods for the dim light in the cave, and the wanton drunkness of the bandits, clocking both her and the hilt of the arrow in a muddy darkness. She may have a killer instinct, but her body was still lacking flesh and muscle and she could feel the ache of fatigue. Her body couldn't keep up with her yet. She watched as the bandit chief spread his large hands over the female's small breasts, rubbing the nibs to points as she ground her pelvis into him. Alopexin cocked the bow again, readying herself for a killing blow. She let the arrow fly, piercing the female's supple skin, but missing the heart by mere centimetres.

Alopexin cursed as the chief roared in a drunken rage. He flew to his feet, letting the bleeding, wailing female fall to the floor, clutching at the arrow in her back. He heaved a heavy war axe on his wide shoulders and moved towards Alopexin's cubby.

She hitched the bow to her back, and drew her sword. The steel shimmed red in the light, and the chief finally caught sight of her in his ale-driven haze. He threw his entire weight towards her, swinging the axe with visible skill. Alopexin relied on her lithe frame and light armour, and dodged the blow as she parried with her sword.

Her blade caught the shoulder blade of the bandit, as he dealt with the heavy aftermath of his swing, causing him to growl.

"I'm going to skin you. I will pick the meat from your bones and feast on you." The barbarian bared his teeth, as he shifted his weight to swing the axe once more.

Alopexin stayed silent, she moved her weight quickly and once again smoothly dodged the blow. She shifted forwards and swiped at the bandit with her sword, catching his upper arm in a burst of blood and flesh. Enraged he recouped his energy and, more swiftly, swung the axe towards her.

Alopexin dodged to the left, feeling a bursting pain in her right shoulder as the axe cut through her armour and flesh, leaving a jagged mush of blood and leather. She staggered and fell to her knees from the strike. She turned her face upwards, leaving a sheen of sweat pouring down her neck, mingling with the spurting blood.

"I can't wait to strip those clothes from you, and then your skin. You look so juicy…and fresh. I'm going to enjoy killing you slowly."

He kicked the sword away from her hand, and trapped her arms beneath his hefty bicep. He dragged her to the table, and slammed her backwards into the wood, crushing fruit and plates beneath her. Sweat dripped into Alopexin's eyes, and she blinked hard trying to wash the salty blur away. He pressed his heavy weight against her, pinning her down, stopping her flailing limbs. The chief pulled a dagger from his belt, and traced the iron against the leather of her armour. He pressed hard, until the material began to yield, splitting like a rotten peach under the blade. The leather severed and split roughly, leaving a pale strip of Alopexin's belly on show. She felt like a gutted fish, pushed to submission under his heavy grasp. She could feel his pleasure rising, as he continued to trace the knife along her, this time along the bones of her body.

He dropped his face to her breasts, licking his fat tongue over the pale mounds, as the knife remained jabbed into her skin. She dug her nails into him, wriggling and writhing like a worm on the hook. A scream poured from her lips as he drove the dagger into her palm, pinning her by flesh and bone to the wooden table. His drunken fat fingers tore at her leggings, pulling them down, shackling her. Animal sounds were falling from her, whimpers, moans and growls.

He walked to the fallen body of the female bandit, with arrogant assurance that Alopexin was unable to squirm free. The barbarian pulled a dagger from the female's waist, and walked slowly back to the pinned foxgirl, ignoring the anguished and pained cries of his fellow bandit.

"You can squeal all you like. I know that you want this. I can see in your eyes, you're hungry for a real man. But how would you like to be filled, me or the dagger?"

He traced the blade at her groin, nicking the soft, delicate skin, as he gathered her womanly hair in his hands and twisted. Alopexin was weak with blood loss. She knew was going to die here, in this stinking hole, with this grotesque pig on top of her.